


I'm Still Undone, Not Quite Young

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Courtly Love, F/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, acts of service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24125968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: The stranger was dressed in black, his back to her — familiar enough that she paused for half a heartbeat before levelling her gun at his unprotected back.-Emma Cullen has an unexpected, but not unwelcome visitor.
Relationships: Sam Chisolm/Emma Cullen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	I'm Still Undone, Not Quite Young

**Author's Note:**

> 82 (Second Love) & 84 (Married to the Job); Sam Chisolm x Emma Cullen for anon on tumblr!
> 
> I have been sleeping on this pairing omg. I also probably did far too much reasearch on food and how it would be cooked than was necessary for maybe two paragraphs worth

The faint jangling of spurs drew Emma out of her contemplation, water gone cold around her hands, goosebumps prickling her skin. Carefully she set the plate down, soap suds clinging to the porcelain, and wiped her hands idly on her apron, head quirked to one side as she listened.

Her farm was set slightly apart from the town — a fact that hadn’t bothered her when Matthew was alive when he could calm her fears with whispers of the future they would have together, but now filled her with unease. The gun was a comfort in her hands, as if it had only been a day since the battle rather than years, well maintained just as she had been taught.

The door swung open silently, brisk morning air bringing with it the scent of spring — growing things promising a good harvest, tiny green shots poking through the rich brown earth fought for by seven amazing men and paid for in blood — and the faint hum of the bees, lazily circling the hives. The stranger was dressed in black, his back to her — familiar enough that she paused for half a heartbeat before levelling her gun at his unprotected back.

“I’m not wanting any trouble,” she called, voice steady despite the twist of nerves in her stomach. 

“Then we are in agreement, Mrs Cullen,” the man replied, slowly turning to face her, and Emma’s stomach dipped, relief flooding through her as heady as the sweetest liquor. 

“Mr Sam Chisolm, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Sam ducked his head in embarrassment at her comment, a smile rising unbidden to his lips as Emma threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He was warmed by the sun, dust gritty on his jacket against her bare arms; but he hugged her back, hesitant at first, as if she would shatter at his touch. 

How long had it been, Emma wondered, since he had let someone show him affection? The others in their strange group stayed although not entirely by choice at first — Faraday and Goodnight had both been bed bound by several months; Vasquez and Billy staying by their sides throughout everything — but Sam Chisolm disappeared like smoke in the wind just as soon as the last bullet fell. Red Harvest still chose to occasionally darken her doorstep, curling up on her spare mattress like an angry cat when storms rattled across the plains.

“It has been a while,” Sam agreed, smoothing his hands down her arms as they parted.

“Come on in for a drink.”

He went willingly as she pulled on his arm, stumbling slightly from long hours in the saddle, but he felt right at her side, like it was where he was meant to be.

⁂

Emma woke slowly, sun warm against her face, creating dancing patterns in the pollen dancing in the air when she cracked her eyes open. It was a luxury, this slow slide to consciousness, and her hand reflexively stretched out to the empty space beside her. The cold sheets woke her fully, a flash of sickening grief ripping through her chest as fresh as the day Matthew crumpled to the ground in front of her. 

She lay there, paralysed by the past, sorrow clogging her throat thick enough to choke on. But it passed, as it always did. 

The floor was cold against her feet, a peculiar scent in the air. Following her nose, Emma shuffled towards the kitchen, and stopped in the doorway, resting her hip against the frame.

Sam Chisolm was not a bad looking man. He sent heads turning where ever went, and not all of them were for the wrong reason. Emma knew of a few women — and one enterprising young man — in Rose Creek who had set their hats for the duly sworn warrant officer in the occasion that he had survived the battle, but he had disappeared before their efforts could bear fruit.

The batter sizzled as Sam poured it onto the griddle, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin — although whether it was from the heat of the cast iron stove, or from chopping the fresh pile of wood carefully stacked next to her backdoor, Emma couldn’t say. Steam wafted gently from a pile already set on a plate, a small pot of honey and twists of sugar retrieved from Sam’s saddlebags to accompany it. His muscles bunched and shifted beneath his skin, old scars mingling with some new — Emma’s heart fluttering in her chest at the sight of a fresh bandage wrapped around one bicep — his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Care for some company?” Emma asked, unable to simply stand and watch any longer, driven by the urge to insert herself into this idyllic scene — like something out of her domestic dreams. 

“I’d be delighted,” Sam replied, no surprise colouring his voice, and Emma refused to be embarrassed as she slipped into her seat, “It’s not much, but I thought I could repay you for letting me spend the night.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Emma replied absentmindedly, breathing in the scent of fresh hotcakes, eyes slipping closed in delight.

“Go ahead.”

Emma bowed her head, thoughts crowding through her mind, grace falling reflexively, words she had said a thousand times. Silently, she added her thanks for Sam Chisolm, before beginning to eat, biting back groans of pleasure.

“Will you be in town long?” Emma asked, causing Sam to pause, fork halfway to his mouth. 

He shook his head, chewing slowly. 

“I’ve got a bounty next state down from here. Just thought I’d stop by.”

“It’s good to see you, Sam.”

Sam smiled, illuminated by the early morning sun, and Emma’s breath caught in her chest. She busied herself with stabbing another piece of the hotcake, drenched in honey, sweetness counteracting the sorrow in her chest.

“It’s good to see you as well,” Sam said gently, a strange note in his voice. Emma glanced up just in time to see a shadow pass over his face, a look of longing that sent a thrill through Emma.

“I’ll be leaving mid-morning. Got to enjoy the daylight while I have it, but,” Sam tilted his head to one side, studying Emma’s face, “I’d like to stop by on my way back? If you’d have me.”

“I’d be delighted,” Emma answered, mind racing, a flush rising to her cheeks — the sun had tanned her skin, caused freckles to sprout everywhere like flowers, but she still blushed strong and true.

⁂

Sam placed his hat on his head, squinting as he peered up at the sun, Emma following behind him like a shadow, her own hat hanging from a string around her neck.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Sam promised, taking her hand in his. She could feel the callouses beneath her fingers, feel the strength in his grip. Before she could react, Sam ducked down and kissed her hand, touch featherlight and over before she realised, as Sam moved away and easily swung himself up onto his horse.

“You better be, warrant officer,” Emma answered, mind reeling, cheeks burning, but unable to keep her grin from her face. He tipped his hat in reply, and galloped away into the sunset. Emma watched him go, hand pressed to her heart, new love fresh in her veins.

The nights were going to be getting colder, Emma realised idly, a second thought hot on the heels of the first: a new quilt would be appreciated out in the plains, for Red Harvest and Sam both. It had nothing to do with the tangled mess of emotion in her chest, simple common concern, Emma lied to herself; even as she already began to plan out the pattern, swiping up some spilled honey with her finger and tasting the sunlight burst on her tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!  
> [Trope mash up list!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com/post/615200731645050880/fanfiction-trope-mash-up)  
> 


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